Photos by David G.
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So you are once was I,
a cocky dandy, plumage bold,
now under the sod so deep and cold.
do not mourn,do not weep,
go quietly among us who sleep,
seize the day,good council hold
then unlike me you may grow old.
till deaths embrace brings us together,
strangers no more but birds of a feather,
curse the beaters,damn the guns.
A pox on the side by side and the over and under
T’was one of them laid me asunder.
fair game,fair game,another brace,
Its pheasant for dinner ,who’ll say grace?.
my flesh all eaten my bones for stock,
a nice old claret my Lord or perhaps a Hock?,
bring out the Cognac ,decant the port,
what jolly fun,we’ll call it sport.
so take heed my friend those men with Purdy’s
are out to bag us tasty birdies.
‘Here lies the pheasant plucker’.
Hmm, where’s his son hiding?